


Hey, Headmaster!

by Burning_Up_A_Sun



Series: A Truth So Loud We Can't Ignore [13]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Draco teaches Fine Art, Harry teaches Muggle Studies, M/M, Prefects' Bathroom, Teacher Draco Malfoy, Teacher Harry Potter, they're horny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 16:59:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10416825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burning_Up_A_Sun/pseuds/Burning_Up_A_Sun
Summary: It's 2040, and Harry and Draco are professors at Hogwarts. Harry teaches Muggle Studies, and Draco teaches Fine Arts. After 32 years, Headmistress McGonnegal is retiring and they've found the perfect replacement.a HUGE thank you toCarpemermaid, whose prompt: crotchety old professors who find out their students love them.  And toHP-Golden Agefor hosting their annual Salt and Pepper fest.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Crowgirl](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowgirl), [GeronimoandbeMAGnificent](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Geronimoandbemagnificent), and [ElizaJane](http://archiveofourown.org/users/elizajane) for their wonderful help. Any mistakes you find are mine :D

“Stop fussing and let me do it.”

Draco rested his chin on Harry’s shoulder and looked at their reflections in the entryway mirror. He gently removing Harry’s shaking hands from his bowtie and looped Harry’s garnet and gold silk, tightening the knot. “There. Perfect.”

Draco slowly turned Harry until they faced each other. “You’ll be the best Headmaster that Hogwarts has ever had. You know that, right?”

Draco heard a derisive snort from their lounge. “Go to your other frame, Snape,” he hollered over his shoulder. “This isn’t about you today.” Draco tidied Harry’s dress robes, his hand hovering over the faded Gryffindor crest. “It’s about time we got you new robes, Potter. You know that _Madam Malkin_ would send someone here to measure you…Robes that befit a headmaster.”

“What if I don’t want to be headmaster?” Harry whispered, his voice so quiet that it was almost lost in the noise of the students outside their door. “Maybe they won’t even choose me. I mean, they interviewed everyone. Maybe it’s you.”

Draco shook with laughter. “And perhaps it’s Sybil Trelawney. You know that they won’t choose me to be headmaster. No matter how far in the past the war was, I’ll always be a Death Eater to some people.”

Harry began to argue, but Draco cut him off. “Ten years ago when I took the job as Graphic Arts professor here, you saw the parents’ outcry. McGonagall received Howlers daily for weeks, and that was _thirty years_ after the war ended.”

Harry’s eyes burned with anger. “I’m glad Minerva hired you. You’re the best teacher here. The kids respect the hell out of you.”

“You’re biased because I sleep with you,” Draco coughed, uncomfortable with Harry’s praise. “Plus I have a stack of end of year reports that disagree with you. Most of the students hate my course. You, though. You made Muggle Studies desireable. And as Gryffindor’s Head of House _and_ Quidditch coach, you're already more involved than most headmasters.”

Harry looked away; when Draco lifted Harry’s chin, he hadn’t been prepared for fear. “Okay, Potter. What is going on? What aren't you telling me?” He kept his voice light but firm. 

Harry straightened up, clenched his jaw. “Look. I'm done with people relying on me to fix everything. To save everyone. I like being a teacher. It may not be a savior or an auror or even a headmaster, but I’m good at it, and it’s what I want to do. And I don’t think that what I want matters to anyone.” When he finished, Harry’s shoulders sagged, as if the force of his words had knocked the air out of him.

“Potter, you idiot. You don’t have to be anything you don’t want to be.” Draco kissed the crow’s foot at the corner of Harry’s eye. “Those days are long gone. You’ve done enough for the Wizarding world.”

Harry nodded, and Draco knew he was only pretending to agree. If Harry were chosen, he’d serve. With a deep breath, he opened the door for Draco, and they joined the stream of students flowing toward the Great Hall. 

“Yo, Professor Potter!”

Draco held out his hand to stop the child from continuing. “I’ve told you repeatedly, Smith. _Yo_ is not an acceptable form of hailing someone.”

The child grinned. “That’s why I didn’t say _Yo, Professor Malfoy!_ ” he said before dissolving into laughter.

“You’re a real comedian, Smith. Where’s your final watercolor project?” Draco crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. He stopped short of actually tapping his toe as he waited for Smith’s answer. Harry snickered behind his hand, and when Draco glared at him, Harry pretended to cough to cover his laughter.

The student stuttered and ducked into an alcove until Draco and Harry passed. “I’m assuming it’s on my desk, young man, or do not sign up for Art VI next year,” Draco called over his shoulder, knowing Smith would still hear him.

“Will it be there?” Harry asked, dodging a group of boys who’d stopped in the middle of the hallway, forming a circle to play magical hacky-sack.

“Not even a little,” Draco admitted. “His grade will suffer, but he’s ridiculously talented.”

A seventh-year tapped Draco’s shoulder. “Professor Malfoy? I still haven’t heard from the Muggle University in Paris--about if I’ve been accepted for the fall term.”

Draco stopped Harry in the middle of the hallway. “I would have expected you to hear already.” He rubbed his chin as he thought. “I know a Witch who works at the Uni. I’ll owl her and let you know what she says.”

She flung her arms around Draco’s neck and hugged him, teary from knowing she was leaving Hogwarts. “I’ll miss you most of all, but don’t tell Professor Potter. He always thinks it’s him.” She kissed Draco’s cheek and rejoined her friends.

“Don’t tell Professor Potter?” Harry asked, pretending to be snarky.

“Please. You’re in the wank bank of every student here,” Draco grinned, knowing how that embarrassed Harry. “I suspect even for the boys who believe they’re straight. Let me have this one.”

Chatter swirled around them as the students rushed to the Great Hall excited for their upcoming summer hols. Harry and Draco wound their way through the throngs of students to the row of large, squashy arm chairs facing the head table. Once Harry was seated, Draco leaned down to him and whispered, “When this is over, let’s celebrate. I hear they have a new bubble scent in the Prefects’ bath. And I may have purchased body paint for you.”

He nuzzled Harry’s neck and dragged his palm down Harry’s chest. “Is it a date?” Draco asked. Over the chaos of the Hall, no one else could hear Harry’s whimper. His cheeks flushed as he nodded.

Draco turned toward his own chair and bumped into a second year, who’d been waiting to speak to him. “We’re putting together the last Hogwarts newspaper of the year. On the record, who do you think is going to be the new Headmaster?” Ximena Martinez asked, holding her quill on her reporter’s notepad ready to record their comments.

Harry ground his teeth. “I’m sure whomever is chosen will follow the fine tradition of the previous headmasters—”

“Professor Trelawney,” Draco interrupted with a grin. “Conventional wisdom is betting on her. Of course, she’d already know that.”

Martinez stood, with no idea if either were telling the truth. She wrote down the quotes word for word as she tried to think of a follow up question.

“Best get the paper out, right, Martinez?” Draco shoo’d her away and watched her corner Professor McGonagall.

Draco settled himself in his seat; out of the corner of his eye, he watched Harry wring his hands. If Draco weren’t mistaken, Harry was paler than before. 

“Grampy! Grand-père!”

Draco said a silent _Thank you, Merlin_. Harry had an armful of ginger, hugging him and settling next to Harry in his chair. “Hey. I have a brilliant idea. I’m going to stay here with you two instead of going home to Papa and Daddy.”

Harry kissed the top of her head and hugged her. “Your dads would have our heads if we kept you here. Your first year has been really hard on them.”

Antares groaned, grumbling about _unreasonable fathers_ and _one was bad enough, but I have to have two._

“Come here, you,” Draco said, holding out his arms for his granddaughter. He thanked God every day for Lily Luna, who had decided that being a single mother wasn’t the best choice for her or her baby and had agreed to allow Albus and Scorpius to adopt the baby.

She looked up at Harry with a grin, and Draco was struck by how similar they looked. The same emerald eyes that sparkled when they were teasing. The tiny cleft in the chin, the wide smile. He loved that little girl; Harry was absolutely right—Draco was the pushover grandfather, the one who would do anything for her.

Antares hopped out of Harry’s chair and wriggled in next to Draco. “Can I come hang out this summer and paint some with you? Acrylics this time?”

Draco nodded, unwilling to trust his voice not to crack. Antares was both brilliant and beautiful. She could do anything she wanted; instead, she wanted to spend time with him. “If you promise to get more paint on the canvas than yourself this time.” Draco tried to sound stern, but even to his own ears he sounded like a fraud.

“Did Papa tell you they’re coming here to pick me up? I think they’re just trying to make sure you and Grampy are behaving. They’re probably going to steal your biscuits, because Dad says no one bakes like you.”

Standing at the head table facing the professors and students, Professor McGonagall clapped her hands sharply and called for everyone to take their seats. Antares ran off, squeezing between her friends at the Slytherin table.

“Why do you think they’re really coming?” Harry leaned across the chair to ask, his mouth close to Draco’s ear.

“Who cares,” Draco asked, turning his head enough to capture Harry’s lips. “The real question is how fast can they leave so we can be alone?” He slid his palm to Harry’s cheek and kissed him again. Draco felt some of the tension drain from Harry as he sighed and leaned fully into the kiss.

“Gentlemen, Minerva is waiting to begin.” Professor Flitwick’s voice dragged them away from each other; Professor McGonagall stared at Harry and Draco as she waited, and Draco blushed, feeling every bit a first year. 

“Now that I have everyone’s attention,” Professor McGonagall said and winked at Draco and Harry, “It is my honor to announce this year’s winner for the House Cup. With the smallest margin in years, the house cup is awarded to Gryffindor! With a special commendation from the Ministry for their head of house, Professor Potter, for his work on Wizard/Muggle relations.”

With a flick of McGonagall’s wand, the banners throughout the great hall flipped from the Hogwarts crest to the deep red and regal gold. For good measure, the embroidered Gryffins roared and pawed at the fabric.

The students cheered and tossed their hats into air. Harry ran to the Gryffindor table, high-fiving and hugging as many Gryffindors as he could before McGonagall silenced them.

“Our final order of business for this 2039-2040 school year is something you have all been waiting for. In 1998, I became headmistress, but forty years is enough. The school needs new leadership, someone who is willing to drag us, kicking and screaming into the 21st Century. To integrate Muggle technology and bridge the gap between the two worlds.”

Draco slipped his hand over Harry’s and didn’t flinch when Harry locked their fingers. Draco slowly, gently brushed his thumb over Harry’s and offered positive, supportive thoughts. All Draco could sense from Harry was frigid water, too cold, too much. Fighting but losing to the pull of the water. Draco pressed back with images of their quiet, peaceful flat. The fire crackling as the two of them sat together holding hands.

“We interviewed every member of our current staff, and then the committee welcomed students’ input. They felt a headmaster should be someone willing to listen. To hold to the rules, but also able to see that exceptions sometimes must be made. Someone involved in the social life of the school. Someone who stands up for the students’ rights, regardless of what parents might say.

“Students recommended one professor again and again.”

Draco tried to extricate his hand for a moment, to let blood flow back to his fingers. He knew eventually Harry would accept the committee’s choice. But if McGonagall could just get on with the announcement…

“Instead of hearing it from me, I’d like to have you hear it from one of the most persuasive students.” Minerva waved a student to the podium, and Draco craned his neck to see who it was.

Antares.

Running to the podium, robe flying behind her, her hair a mess.

“Hi everyone. I’m Antares Potter-Malfoy. I’m a first year. Thanks for the chance to tell you about the best person for headmaster. My family always said it’s really important that school prepares us not just to be good Wizards and Witches, but to be good people and stewards of the world. I talked to a lot of you, about who you thought should be headmaster. Every kid said the same name. Now you might think I'm biased because he's my grandfather, but if you sat in his class, you know that he loves you.”

Draco listened carefully, working to ignore Harry’s death grip on his hand.

Antares smiled toward her grandfathers. “Sure, you're likely to be yelled at if you forget your homework, but you're also likely to get a hug and a biscuit. Grand-père says he bakes the biscuits just for Grampy, but we all know that the biscuit jar in their flat is full for any one of us when we need it.”

Antares’ words confused Draco. _Harry never gives the students biscuits; he always yells at me for giving them all away._

“I am proud to announce that the newest headmaster Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is my awesome grandfather, Draco Malfoy.” 

_…What? What! Who’s...Oh, shit. It’s **me.**_

Draco stared at Antares. At Minerva. He turned to Harry, who’d released his hand and stood, along with the entire student body. Albus and Scorpius, Jamie, Lily, even Ginny stood behind his chair, applauding and cheering.

Antares stepped away from the microphone and ran to hug Draco. "I did good, didn’t I? You never even knew that I knew! _That's_ why my dads are here!"

Students rushed to congratulate Draco and offer their apologies to Harry for not being chosen. Draco stood in shock, holding Antares' hand and trying to make sense of what happened.

 _Harry_ was to be the next headmaster. Everyone knew that. He would be brilliant. The chosen one chosen again. What happened? Because he was a Malfoy, mean, surly, sarcastic. For Merlin’s sake, he taught _Art._ In the greatest surprise of Draco's life, he learned that the students liked him. He grinned at the thought of Yo!Smith, of Ximena Martinez, of the dozens of students he cajoled, bribed, argued with, and praised each day. Of the biscuits he baked and gave away as rewards, apologies, encouragement, as comfort. They actually liked and respected him. 

Professor McGonagall wound her way through the crowd to the Potter-Malfoy clan (which kept growing--Ron and Hermione showed up, along with Molly and Arthur, who mentioned George and Angelina would be along any minute) and hugged Harry. "I hope you're not disappointed,” she asked, her voice apologetic.

And Draco laughed. A tiny bubble of a giggle at first that grew into belly laughter. “Disappointed? Harry’s thrilled. I’m the one in shock. Who in their right mind would choose me over _Harry Potter?”_

Antares wrapped her arms around Draco. “You think you’re so mean, Grand-père, that no one likes you. But you’re not. Everyone here knows that. We knew you’d be a great headmaster.” She looked at Harry, who looked happier than Draco had ever seen. “No offense, Grampy.”

“She’s right, Draco,” Minerva said, patting Draco’s shoulder. “Once we interviewed you, listened to your views on child-centered education, different learning styles, and revamping the curriculum, we knew you were our choice. And when we spoke to the students, they all talked about how understanding you are. That there are rules, but sometimes, you’ll bend them, and that you’re always willing to listen and help.”

“He’s pretty terrific,” Scorpius said proudly, hugging Draco from behind, since Antares refused to release Grand-père. “The house elves have set up a party in your suite,” Scorpius said. “Shall we bring this party there? And Professor McGonagall, please join us.”

Antares led them out of the Great Hall, showing them the shortest, best route to Harry and Draco’s suite.

Harry tugged on Draco’s arm, holding him back from the others. “Are you ok with being chosen? I know it’s a shock.”

Draco thought carefully before answering. “You know, I _am_ alright with it. I know it will be a giant headache, but I think it will be okay. And you? Are you ok with not being chosen?”

Harry grinned, relief flooding his face. “Oh, Merlin, yes. I’m so happy I could dance right here at Hogwarts.” He tried out a few moves, but looked ridiculous and stopped. “Anyway, still fancy a go in the Prefects’ bathroom? Now that you’re Headmaster?”

Draco’s heart skipped a beat. God damn Potter and that blush on his cheeks, his heavy eyes that basically transmitted _take me to bed._ His fingers, soft and careful. “They’ll miss us. It’s our party.”

“Let them miss us,” Harry said, pulling Draco to him until their bodies touched, until they breathed the same air, almost kissing. “I think we need to celebrate. By ourselves.”

Draco brushed his lips over Harry’s, a light tease. “How long do you think they’ll stay?”

The unexpected, overwhelming scent of lily of the valley assaulted Draco. He pulled away enough not to sneeze in Harry’s face. 

“May the gods bless you, Draco,” Sybil Trelawney said as she passed them, her perfume heavy in her wake. “I knew you would be a suitable Headmaster.”

Harry snickered at her Inner Eye, but Draco stepped on his foot to encourage him to shut up. 

Professor Trelawney turned her nose up and continued walking. “You should wait for your swim until this evening. I believe your sons are quite busy.”

“She's right,” Harry said, disappointed to agree with her. “They've planned this party--”

“That's not what she meant!” Draco laughed at Harry as realization dawned on his face. 

“They're--Prefects bath--oh, Merlin, we almost walked in on them!” Harry hid his face behind his hands and pretended to shiver. 

Draco wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist and kissed him sweetly, enough to remind Harry of what was to come. “Let’s go to the party, and when we’re done we can explore the Headmaster’s suite. Maybe the bathtub is better.” 

Draco pulled Harry up the hallway. Perhaps being Headmaster _would_ have its privileges.


End file.
